


Acting Normal

by HashtagLEH



Series: Something Like a Family [9]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anxiety, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Have a Good Relationship, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Canonical Child Abuse, Gen, M/M, Neil Hargrove is His Own Warning, Pre-Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Slurs, Soft Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Has Nightmares, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, figured I should add that tag by now because that's what it looks like it's going to be, it's just weed though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28900641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HashtagLEH/pseuds/HashtagLEH
Summary: “Thanks for the ride,” Dustin breathed, settling into his seat and grabbing the seatbelt automatically, while Max moved her seat back into position and sat down, closing the door behind her.“Sure, Curly,” Billy sighed longsufferingly, pulling away from the curb and back down the road toward the school.Leeches, the lot of them. “Don’t make a habit of it – Harrington is the babysitter, not me.”“Steve is myfriend, not mybabysitter,” Dustin corrected with a frown, fiddling with the straps of the backpack in his lap. “We fought monsters together.”“Did he say what was wrong with him?” Billy asked with a frown, flicking his gaze to the boy in the rearview mirror and deciding not to address Dustin’s statement.“Just that he wasn’t feeling good,” Dustin said with a shrug, unbothered. “He sounded kinda stuffy, so he’s probably coming down with something. Why do you care?”Billy gave him a dry look. “Steve is my friend,” he mimicked Dustin’s previous words. “We fought monsters together.”
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Dustin Henderson, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, pre- Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Something Like a Family [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009263
Comments: 10
Kudos: 140





	Acting Normal

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, this installment was _so_ difficult to write. I think I'm just trying so hard to keep them in character, but I also need them to talk about some things for the Plot, so forgive me if this seems a little stilted. I tried.
> 
> Also, the terms "faggot" and "white trash" are used in here by Billy in respect to himself, because he has terrible self-esteem and they were normally used terms for the time. Henceforth I'll just tag when any sort of slurs are going to be used rather than warning specifically before each installment. None are meant to offend anyone, but only to add realism to the story.

“Billy! Phone!”

From where he stood in front of his mirror finishing up his hair, Billy jerked a little in surprise at Neil’s voice, because it didn’t have its usual venomous undercurrent. The danger was still there, but that was just Neil’s normal voice when talking to him. He wondered who could be calling him this early in the morning, on a Friday before school started. Then he remembered the _last_ time the phone had been for him, and he hurried from his room, walking down the hall to where his dad was holding the phone with an impatient look on his face.

“Who is it?” Billy asked him even as he took the phone, and Neil grimaced at him in irritation, gesturing for him to answer the phone himself.

“This is Billy,” he said into the mouthpiece, expecting to hear El again, as he had last time someone had called for him.

“Billy!” That wasn’t El. “This is Dustin. Henderson?”

“Yeah, one of Max’s friends,” Billy said, mainly for Neil’s benefit, who had remained standing beside him, presumably to vet the people Billy knew and make sure he wasn’t going to be gay in Hawkins like he’d been in California. He mentally rolled his eyes to himself, though he didn’t dare do it outwardly where Neil was watching, because he didn’t need any more bruises for the weekend.

“Ri-ight,” Dustin said on the other end of the line. “So Steve has been driving me to school the past few days, because he’s awesome and we’re friends. But he called a few minutes ago and said that he’s sick today and can’t come get me. My mom already went to work, and I would ask the Sinclairs or Jonathan to come get me, but Mrs. Byers said that Jonathan already left because Will spent the night at Mike’s and there wouldn’t be time to come get me too and still be on time for school anyway, and no one answered at the Sinclairs’ I’m pretty sure because they would be having family breakfast and Mrs. Sinclair has a rule about when to answer the phone, but I don’t know when they might be done and by then it might be too late to get to school on time too, since they live on the other side of town, near the Wheelers. But then I remembered that you guys live super close to us, and I was hoping if maybe you could come pick me up on your way to school so I don’t have to bike over and maybe make it in time for second period.”

Billy blinked at the rapid slew of words, and was able to pick through them enough that he deduced what it was the curly-headed kid wanted.

“What’s wrong with Steve?” was what came out first, and he mentally kicked himself for it.

“Uh, he’s sick – keep up,” Dustin said with obvious ‘duh’ in his voice. Billy rolled his eyes at that, because he knew _that_ – he was asking what Steve was sick _with_. “So can you pick me up?”

“Yeah, sure,” Billy said with a little sigh, because Neil was still watching and this was probably something he would insist on, playing the part of responsible older brother not only to Max but also to her friends. “Gimme your address.”

He scrawled the address messily on the notepad next to the phone, before ripping the paper off from the rest and shoving it into his pocket.

“Yeah, we’ll be there in a few,” Billy told him, cutting off his repeated thanks. _Leeches_. “Be ready and waiting.”

He hung up the phone without waiting for a response, and before he could make any movement in either direction, Neil was saying, “Who was that?”

“One of Max’s friends from school,” Billy told him, keeping his voice carefully even and non-confrontational. “His ride is sick and he lives nearby, so I’m going to pick him up.”

Neil’s eyes narrowed and he leaned a little closer, like he could spot a lie if he was twelve inches from his face rather than thirteen. “Why did he call _you_?” he demanded.

“I’m sure he’s seen me taking Max to and from school every day,” Billy sighed, accidentally letting his irritation toward Neil slip into his tone. “It wouldn’t be unreasonable to ask me to get him since he’s nearby.”

Neil leaned forward, raising a hand, and Billy couldn’t help the instinctive, small flinch as it came toward his face, expecting a blow. Neil looked satisfied at the response, but he only patted Billy’s cheek – too hard to be anything other than a threat, but not exactly a slap either. It was over the recent bruise on his cheekbone though, so pain still radiated from the area in protest.

“Watch the attitude, Billy,” Neil warned him in a quietly dangerous tone. “You need to learn some more respect.”

“Yes, Sir,” Billy said automatically, and kept himself carefully still, not allowing himself to flinch again with Neil’s hand still so near to his face and hoping that Neil didn’t feel like beating anything into him that morning. He needed to leave in the next couple of minutes if he was going to get to Dustin’s house and then to the school in time.

He was in luck though, because after one more not-slap, Neil pulled away, going toward the kitchen. Billy let out a quiet, slightly shaky sigh and rubbed a hand over the spot Neil had patted, before moving to go toward his room for his jacket.

He stopped when he saw Max, standing in the doorway of her room and staring after the spot Neil had disappeared from, an expression of deep hate on her face. She looked up at him when he moved, her lips tight, and Billy knew immediately that she had seen everything that had just happened. All he could feel at that though was tiredness, and he just continued on toward his room.

“Wipe that look off your face, shitbird, I’m fine,” he muttered as he passed her, because Neil really didn’t need another reason to be mad at Billy, and if he thought his stepdaughter hated him he would blame Billy for “poisoning her mind” or some shit rather than thinking it had anything to do with him being an abusive piece of shit. Max’s anger, or protectiveness, or _anything_ wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Billy.

When Billy returned from getting his jacket, he found Max in the kitchen, telling Neil about Dustin. Or, answering his questions in as few words as possible, more like. Neil didn’t look bothered by Max’s attitude, probably assuming she was just tired or something and not even noticing Max’s hands clenched around her backpack straps like she thought someone was going to steal it if she wasn’t white-knuckling it.

“Well, you ought to get off to school, then,” Neil said, dismissing them both with a raised mug of coffee in their direction. “Billy can tell me about this boy later.”

Billy nodded once, tugging the back of Max’s backpack to prod her to moving. “Yes, Sir,” he responded, heart sinking because he knew exactly what that meant. Neil wasn’t satisfied with Max’s answers, so he would be asking Billy the same questions he’d asked the redhead, but he would be a lot more demanding and a lot less forgiving for any perception of cheek or disrespect. A conversation with Neil was practically a guaranteed beating – it was only the severity of it that was fluid and ever-changing.

Max was sullen and tense even after leaving the house, so Billy sighed mentally and put in her Madonna cassette in hopes of cheering her up, because he knew that her bad mood was because of Neil, and there was nothing that could be done about that.

They arrived at Dustin’s house a few minutes later, where thankfully the kid was indeed waiting by the door and watching out the window, because he came bounding out as soon as Billy pulled up. Max got out so that she could move her seat forward, and Dustin quickly clambered into the back. Billy had to dodge quickly out of the way to avoid being clobbered by the kid’s bulky backpack stuffed with who knew what. Billy glared at him in the rearview mirror as he sat down, not that the kid even noticed.

“Thanks for the ride,” Dustin breathed, settling into his seat and grabbing the seatbelt automatically, while Max moved her seat back into position and sat down, closing the door behind her.

“Sure, Curly,” Billy sighed longsufferingly, pulling away from the curb and back down the road toward the school. _Leeches_ , the lot of them. “Don’t make a habit of it – Harrington is the babysitter, not me.”

“Steve is my _friend_ , not my _babysitter_ ,” Dustin corrected with a frown, fiddling with the straps of the backpack in his lap. “We fought monsters together.”

“Did he say what was wrong with him?” Billy asked with a frown, flicking his gaze to the boy in the rearview mirror and deciding not to address Dustin’s statement.

“Just that he wasn’t feeling good,” Dustin said with a shrug, unbothered. “He sounded kinda stuffy, so he’s probably coming down with something. Why do you care?”

Billy gave him a dry look. “Steve is my friend,” he mimicked Dustin’s previous words. “We fought monsters together.”

“Oh, good, Steve needs more friends,” Dustin said, apparently unbothered by Billy’s mocking tone and taking his words at face value. “He lost a lot of them when he stopped being an asshole.”

Max turned to look at Dustin. “Steve’s not an asshole,” she argued. “He’s like, Team Mom.”

“He didn’t _used_ to be,” Dustin insisted. “He’s only been nice for a little bit now. But he pulled his stick out, so he’s fun to be around now.” Apparently bored now with that line of conversation, he went on before either of them could respond, “Anyway, Max, do you wanna go to the arcade with us after school? Mike found a ten dollar bill so we have a _lot_ of extra!”

Billy tuned them out for the rest of the drive to the school, uninterested in hearing their plans for the afternoon. It was a Friday, so he knew Neil would be fine with Max going to the arcade for a bit longer than usual, so he didn’t need to break up the discussion with firm denials.

Instead, he pondered Steve, and his apparent sickness. He’d been alright the day before when they’d smoked some more of his weed in the evening. Although, it _was_ December and it _was_ cold, so maybe he really was coming down with something. Unbidden, the image of Steve with huge eyes and a reddened nose came to mind, and he was immediately hit with the desire to bundle him up in a blanket. He grimaced to himself a moment later though, because he’d never been _soft_ like that before and he wasn’t about to start now. He was a faggot, but he wasn’t about to do faggy shit like that; he had to draw a line somewhere.

Still though, it wouldn’t hurt to go check on the guy, Billy told himself as he pulled into the school parking lot. He wasn’t missing anything important in school, anyway – he already knew this shit because it was stuff you learned in junior year in California rather than senior year in Indiana. Maybe Steve was just ditching, anyway. If Steve was ditching to get high again, that sounded a lot more appealing than sitting through Mrs. Lampkowski’s droning voice in first hour.

Decided, Billy pulled up to the curb, letting Max and Dustin get out to go to the middle school. Before Max could close the door, Billy leaned over the seat to look at her.

“Hey, shitbird, am I taking you to the arcade after school or are you going to skate over?” he called.

Max shrugged. “I’ll just skate over – everyone else is biking over. If I need a ride I’ll get one with Will.”

“Alright,” Billy agreed. “Then I’ll get you from the arcade at six.”

Max pouted at him. “Seven?” she wheedled, and Billy glared.

“And miss dinner?” he said dryly. Max looked about to argue until she realized what missing dinner would likely mean for Billy, and she nodded reluctantly as he went on. “Six, and not a minute later.” He looked up, past her, seeing the four boys hanging back at the doors, occasionally glancing in their direction, and he waved his hand at her. “Go catch up to your monster squad – they’re waiting for you.”

Max started a little, glancing back in the direction of the school before looking back at him. Her expression was pleased now, her cheeks a little red, and Billy knew how glad she was to have friends now so he didn’t comment it.

She was still feeling cheeky enough though to tease, “Are you calling them the monster squad because they _fight_ monsters or because _they’re_ cretinous little monsters?”

Billy gave her a dry, tired look. “Does it fuckin’ matter?”

Max laughed at him, closing the door finally and kicking off with her skateboard toward the boys. Billy shook his head to himself, pulling a cigarette from his pocket, taking a moment to light it before he was peeling out of the parking lot, headed for Loch Nora.

***

Everyone knew where the Harringtons lived, even those who had only lived in Hawkins for two weeks. Billy finished his cigarette as he was pulling in to Loch Nora, and moments later he pulled up in front of the huge, pretentious-looking house with Harrington’s red car parked in the driveway. It was the only car in the driveway, and Billy spared a half second to wonder where Mr. and Mrs. Harrington parked their car or cars before he dismissed the thought, turning off his own car and climbing out.

He paused to stare up at the huge house, shivering a little in the November chill while he pulled out another cigarette just for something to do with his hands. After lighting it, he shook his head to himself before slipping his Zippo back into his pocket and stomping his way up the sidewalk path to the door. It was heavy and wooden, with a round frosted glass window taking up a large portion of it, some kind of pretentious floral design cut into it so that the inside of the house was distorted. Shaking his head to himself at the sheer _wealth_ that the house projected, he was about to knock on the door before he wondered suddenly if the heavy wood would be harmful to his knuckles, and changed his trajectory to ring the doorbell instead.

Standing there and feeling like some kind of idiot, Billy puffed his cigarette, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. But it was seven-thirty in the morning and people were at work or school, so no one was there to see the white trash kid standing in front of a house in a neighborhood he didn’t belong in.

A moment later he was pulled from his thoughts as there was movement on the other side of the door, a mere moment before said door was yanked open and Billy rested his eyes on Steve, who was apparently _not_ having such a great time ditching school.

Steve looked like he was simultaneously two seconds from collapsing and two seconds from sending a right hook into someone’s face if they looked at him wrong. His eyes were red and exhausted, dark bags sagging under his eyes and hair like he’d been running his hands through it. He was shaking like he was high on something, but upon closer inspection Billy thought that it might be fatigue and caffeine that was the problem. At least he was dressed, but he also had shoes on, which was strange if he was apparently going to be inside all day.

Billy raised his eyebrow though at the nail bat that was only barely hidden next to the door, shoved aside when Steve saw that it was him standing there and not some sort of other enemy.

“Expecting company?” he said lightly, looking back up at Steve.

Steve gripped the door – not like he wanted to slam it in Billy’s face, but like it was the only thing that was keeping him upright. “What are you doing here?”

“Just figured I’d drop in, pretty boy,” Billy drawled. “May I?” Without waiting for a response, Billy walked past Steve into the house. Steve closed the door after a brief pause, and Billy turned back to face him.

“I would’ve come by with beers if I’d known we were ditching today,” he told him, not addressing Steve’s manic state. If Harrington felt like sharing, he would, but if not at least Billy was assured the guy wasn’t dying while Billy was sitting through U.S. History.

“My dad has some bourbon in the study,” Steve said automatically, looking a little confused but going along with what Billy said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Billy said, not making a move to get it, and not just because bourbon was far from his first choice of alcohol. Instead, he moved in the direction he assumed the kitchen would be. “I didn’t eat breakfast. You got any food here?”

Ten minutes later Billy shoved a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in Steve’s direction, grabbing the hot sauce he’d found in the fridge before pouring it over his own plate of eggs.

“Sit, Harrington,” he said, raising his eyebrows to gesture to the bar stools in front of the guy. He was just standing there, fiddling with his fingers and watching Billy work, and Billy wasn’t sure if it was out of confusion or fatigue that he wasn’t saying anything about Billy barging in and ordering him around.

“Eat,” Billy directed once Steve had obeyed the first command and sat down at the island. Steve picked up his fork and started eating the eggs mechanically, blinking at Billy. A moment later, his brain and stomach seemed to get with the program, and he started eating his eggs a lot faster before moving on to the toast.

“You want some juice?” Billy said through a mouthful of eggs, going to the fridge again. He had seen a half-full jug of orange juice in there when he’d gotten the other things out. Fuck yeah he knew how to make a balanced breakfast.

“Pretty sure it’s bad,” Steve said, and Billy inspected the jug he’d pulled off the shelf before deciding that it was alright and pouring a glass for himself and one for Steve, pushing it across the island for him before putting the jug back in the fridge and returning to his own food while leaning against the counter.

Once Steve had eaten, he seemed a lot more _with it_ , and he frowned at Billy before saying, “I know how to cook for myself.”

Billy gave him a look, saying like it didn’t matter, “Great.”

“I mean, I don’t need you to come check on me,” Steve went on, looking irritated. “I’m not stupid.”

“I’m not checking on you – I’m _ditching_ with you,” Billy said like Steve really was dumb, rolling his eyes. “And I’m used to making meals for me and Max, so making enough for two is normal.”

“Why didn’t you eat breakfast today?” Steve challenged him with a stubborn tilt to his chin.

“Didn’t have time,” Billy said honestly while he went to wash his dishes in the sink. “Had to leave early to pick up one of the brats.”

The stubbornness dissipated from his expression, something like guilt or shame taking over instead. “Sorry,” he said, clearly knowing exactly who Billy was talking about and remembering that he had taken on the responsibility of getting Dustin to school himself.

Billy shrugged though, because he hadn’t actually meant to make Harrington feel bad with his previous statement. “Whatever – he lives nearby. He said you were sick.”

Harrington frowned down at his empty plate, clutching his fork tightly in one fist. They both knew that Steve wasn’t sick; Billy wondered if Steve would say anything about it.

“So, you got a TV here?” Billy asked, stepping away from the sink and drying his hands off on his jeans. “Or do you want – ?”

“My parents aren’t home,” Steve blurted, cutting him off with a wince at his own words before he plowed on. “I mean, they – they haven’t been home since July. And I’m used to it, because they travel a lot – it’s whatever, you know?”

Billy raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet, because Steve seemed to be gearing himself up to say something else and he didn’t think the guy would want to hear about how Billy only _wished_ Neil and Susan fucked off for months at a time.

“And sometimes I – well, it wasn’t this bad last year, you know? I didn’t know the kids, and it was just me and Nancy and Jonathan that time, and when it got bad I used to go to Nancy’s but like, it was fine, yeah? We pretended to be normal for long enough that I really thought we _could_ be normal, but Nancy was right – it’s all just _bullshit_.” He shoved a hand into his hair, tugging roughly at the ends, and Billy only kind of knew what Steve was talking about but he stayed quiet anyway because the guy didn’t seem like he was finished.

“So I don’t – I _know_ , I’m not normal. Everyone else just lets it slide right off them, like – like _ducks_. And I can’t stop _thinking_ about it all, even when I don’t mean to! So I wasn’t really _surprised_ last night with the nightmares, but I didn’t want any of the kids to know about it or worry so I just said I was sick. I mean, it’s not really a _lie_ , it’s just – not how they’re thinking it. But I can’t just – shake everything that happened off like it’s _normal_. So when I’m alone here, I don’t – I don’t sleep, or eat, or – anything. I just – no one else is _here_ , you know? And no one is _supposed_ to be here, so when I hear noises I think it’s those – those _fucking monsters_ again and I can’t sleep.”

Billy was pretty sure he understood now what Steve was trying to say. He had nightmares about the Upside-Down shit and he woke up paranoid and now he didn’t have fucking Wheeler around to keep him in his head, so he’d just decided to ditch school so no one else knew. Some macho tough guy bullshit, whatever.

“Hey, everyone deals with shit differently,” Billy told Steve with a frown. “You don’t need to be – ashamed or whatever the fuck you’re feeling just because you have nightmares.”

Steve frowned back at him, still fidgeting with his hands. “I’m not – I don’t – I just don’t want the kids to _worry_ about me. I don’t think they see this Upside-Down or whatever they want to call it as anything more than some stupid _game_. If they knew I was having – _issues_ with it, they would either think I’m stupid for it because we’re _fine_ now, or they would realize that it _is_ serious shit and I don’t want them to be scared _now_ ; they’re still just kids. I mean, the government people are still _there_ , never mind the shit Nancy and Jonathan pulled to expose them. They’re not going to go away forever – they’ll just pretend like they are and set up somewhere else, or under a different name. They’re still looking for El, and they’re still _always_ going to be watching us and who even knows what the fuck they’re going to do with that. And – and what about the Upside-Down? The government knows it exists – you’d have to be _stupid_ to think they’re not going to do what they can to open it again to try and weaponize whatever the fuck is on the other side. And _when_ that happens, will we even fucking find out about it? Or am I going to find out again _after_ everything is already gone to shit and just be scrambling to catch up and not _die_? And while _I’m_ trying to do that, these little shitheads are going to be raring off to go fight the damn monsters because it’s _so_ fun to them, and if they die it will be on _my_ head! I wasn’t supposed to be involved in _any_ of this, and yet it’s in _my_ backyard that Barb died, which makes it _my_ fault, so how am I supposed to fucking sleep if there’s even the _possibility_ of one of those monsters coming through my yard again?! Why should I be acting like everything is okay when it _so clearly isn’t_?!”

Billy stared as Steve ranted, getting louder the longer he went on and that much more expressive. He was impressed, not having expected all that from the guy but supposing that his points were valid. It had been less than a week since the whole shit with the Upside-Down and the demodogs had gone down, so it was also not unexpected that Steve would still be ruminating in the what-ifs and worries about it.

Steve looked a little awkward now though, seemingly realizing and remembering where he was, and Billy didn’t want him to clam up because the guy was sharing real shit with him and that was hard to do sometimes (Billy would know), so he decided impulsively to be just as honest.

“A week ago I was _certain_ that I hated Max,” he said, and waved his hand at the expected question before Steve could even open his mouth. “The reasons why aren’t important. But I hated her, and I pushed her to hate me – it was a real party. But you know what my first thought was when me an’ El showed up in that house and I realized that Max had been in the thick of all this shit? I wondered what might’ve happened if El and I had shown up just a few minutes later. I was worried the little shit might’ve gotten herself killed while I’d been fucking off with some other little girl.

“So I get it, Harrington. No one expects you to be normal after the shit night we had. Whatever the hell counts for normal, anyway. You don’t have to hole up alone, either. You need company, I can come over.” Realizing that sounded pretty faggy, he hastened to add on, “Just so long as you keep supplying the good weed, you feel?”

Steve finally laughed, and it sounded a little hysterical but also relieved, so Billy didn’t bother worrying about it. “Yeah, man, I’ll keep you supplied,” he agreed.

“Good,” Billy said, satisfied. “What are we waiting for, then? Pull out that shit.”

Steve laughed again, shaking his head and disappearing in the direction of the stairs while Billy took care of Steve’s dishes like some kind of fucking housewife. He shook his head to himself, but the thought didn’t stop him from cleaning of the dishes, including the ones he’d used to make the meal. He was beginning to realize that there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Steve Harrington; doing the dishes after making him breakfast didn’t seem nearly so big after all that had occurred in the past week.

Steve reappeared with weed and papers just as Billy was hanging up the towel he’d used to dry the dishes, and they decided to take Billy’s car to go smoke somewhere else, since Steve didn’t want to risk the smell of the weed getting into the upholstery where his parents might figure it out. Now armed with new knowledge of what Harrington’s home life was like, Billy refrained from teasing him about it. It was as much a sore spot as Billy’s was, despite the vast difference in parenting styles.

Steve was still clearly a little anxious, jumping at sounds and fiddling with a small tear in his jeans, the band of his wrist watch, the bag that held the weed – anything around him really, while his eyes darted quickly from one thing to the next, trying to take in as much as possible. Billy shot the breeze with him though once they’d parked in the forest on the far end of Hawkins, trying to pull his mind onto meaningless other things while they meandered their way through Steve’s weed. He didn’t think either of them was interested as much in getting high as they were just not being alone, so it took a while to go through each joint and then to remember to make a new one.

They spent the rest of the morning and then the afternoon in that car, pausing only to stop by the diner and grab some food to go for lunch, and Billy was glad to see Harrington slowly relaxing – and it wasn’t just the weed that did it. He swallowed down a smile with a handful of fries and asked him if he’d ever been surfing – or snowboarding, since they were apparently so similar.

He wasn’t naïve enough to think that Steve was totally okay now. He knew the nightmares would still come, and he would still get paranoid in his house and probably feel the need to carry that nail bat around with him when he did.

He hoped that Steve knew that he could come to Billy though when he needed help now though. Especially since he didn’t feel like he could go to Nancy Wheeler anymore (Billy ruthlessly squashed the victory he felt over that one, because their breakup _definitely didn’t affect him_ ).

Watching the guy laughing as he told a story about going snowboarding with Tommy H when they were ten, all he could think was, _I’m so fucked._

For now though, he couldn’t bring up any feeling other than fondness at that fact.

**Author's Note:**

> Weed (or any drugs) is not the answer to problems. To clarify in case of confusion, that's not Billy's intent here either. Billy is emotionally awkward because he's used to hiding things under Neil's roof, and he doesn't really know what to do to make things not so emotional or mushy, so he suggests they get high. Their relationship will build more into something real as time goes on. But they've only _really_ known each other for a few days by this point, so some awkwardness is to be expected when Steve, in his exhaustion, just blurts out all his problems and worries on Billy, who, let's be honest, is still pretty emotionally constipated. He's trying, though. 
> 
> In Season 1 when Nancy and Barb show up, that driveway looks so sad and the front of the house is so flat that I decided to make that a back entrance. I imagine the Harringtons with a more interesting front of the house, with a front door set back farther with a long sidewalk path leading up, so I made it that way in here before realizing that we've seen the front of his house in the show before. Let's just imagine it has a separate wing type of a setup or something because the house in the show isn't actually all that impressive but I've read so many fics where it is that that's what I choose as my canon now.
> 
> Hope you liked it - let me know!


End file.
